


Smiling in Love

by LaceKyoko1138



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Dirty Talk, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Love Confessions, Nightmares, Nipple Licking, Post-War, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceKyoko1138/pseuds/LaceKyoko1138
Summary: After the war, Marianne writes to Sylvain in hopes of learning some political know-how from his successful negotiations with Sreng. Having an extended stay at his estate, Sylvain teaches her more than just politics. Marianne teaches him something in return.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. A Softened Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minispice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minispice/gifts).



> Edit 8/27/2020: I decided to split this into two chapters because a 15k monster isn't really functional as a oneshot. Should have done that from the start but I'm manic.
> 
> I literally had a dream about these two and had to immediately write it. This monster of a oneshot is an expansion on that dream. Funny enough, writing this made me look deeper into their supports and I discovered they only have up to B????? Um, hi IntSys, please give these two an A support, I am begging you.
> 
> I absolutely adore these two. I really hope everyone enjoys this. I had a blast writing it and I dedicate it to my friend Miniyuna for listening to my late night rambles about it. <3

If someone told Sylvain that a certain Marianne von Edmund would send him a letter asking about his goings-on and progress with his neighbors in Sreng, he would have chuckled and said it was unlikely. If someone told him she in fact did, then asked to visit him at his estate, he would have choked on his dinner. But Miss Marianne most certainly did send a letter to Sylvain and he most cordially accepted her request.

In school he may have tested her, trying to see if she was like the rest. Then, he realized she, much like him, hated crests and wanted to be valued for her own merits, and not something she couldn’t control. In her, he found a kindred spirit, even though she was quite unwilling. Before the Battle at Garreg Mach, they never did go to a market together like he had asked her to. He knew perhaps she’d be willing, when she said she wanted to practice her smile, and he found that encouraging. However, Rhea then turned into a dragon and the professor went missing. Life as he’d known it turned to hell and all he could do was fight for his life.

To his surprise, Marianne had also chosen to side with Edelgard and the Black Eagle Strike Force began its campaign to unify Fódlan and eradicate the Crest system. The next few years of war were difficult, and Sylvain didn’t have many opportunities to find Marianne and see if she was ready to show her smile to the world, as cheesy as that sounded, so he found distractions in other people, and slowly he grew from being a womanizing boy to a more considerate man.

Likewise, Marianne found more confidence in herself, although she tended to converse quietly with the professor, talked about art with Ignatz, and she and Mercedes shared faith magic techniques as well as pray quietly together. She admired Edelgard, but found her intimidating so the two never got a chance to bond. But she believed in Edelgard’s cause regardless.

Sometimes, Sylvain and Marianne passed each other in the dining hall and he’d smile widely at her and to his delight she’d give a small one in return. He approached her a few times, but she seemed reticent and he always pulled back. Sylvain was still trying to learn boundaries and improve from his wild days. He hoped one day Marianne would understand.

When the war was finished, everyone who wasn’t involved in fighting the Agarthans went their separate ways, tending to affairs and building their lives anew. Sylvain wanted to be someone his father wasn’t. He intended to prove to the people in his territory that Crests really didn’t matter and he would see it through. Marianne wanted to use her newfound confidence to become a successful heir and prove her worth.

So when Marianne did in fact show up at the gates to the Gautier estate with some luggage, Sylvain found himself nervous for once. He had not seen her in years. He thought she’d forgotten about him and their conversation on how to smile. In some sort of sense in Sylvain Land she was the one who got away. Seeing her there, a chilly spring breeze blowing hair from her face, smiling at him more radiantly than the sun, tore the wind from Sylvain’s sails. He was out in open water without a preserver and she was the island to which he needed to swim. Sylvain had to bond with her. He lost his chance because of the war; he would not waste this one.

“Marianne! It’s so great to see you!” he yelled as he jogged to her.

Marianne thought it was cute how eager he was to see her. In the past, this would have intimidated her, but she knew she owed Sylvain a walk through the market now that she had the confidence to smile at anyone. She giggled and bowed shallowly.

“Thank you for having me, Sylvain. It’s nice to see you too.”

She was still so soft-spoken that he almost lost her voice to the wind, but it didn’t matter because he was there in front of her. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt joyous. Without really thinking about it, he snatched her in a hug that lifted her off the ground and he spun her, his face burrowed into her shoulder. She yelped, surprised, and perhaps a little confused. Surely Sylvain hadn’t missed her that much.

He finally let her down and laughed. “Sorry! I’m just glad you’re here!”

Her face was red and she smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. “That’s okay. Just a little surprising.” She looked up and he saw genuine happiness in her eyes. “I didn’t mind it at all.”

He drank her in. It was spring and the trendy colors this season were cream and mint, accented by a pale pink. Marianne’s dress still hid so much of her skin, but the dress was still quite attractive but the girl in it was even more so. The dress was made of delicate lace and satin, a small embroidered capelet fastened around her neck and clung along her shoulders and chest. A minty belt was around her waist and Sylvain could see small pink flowers stitched in. The dress then billowed out into a gently pleated skirt, pink stitching at the bottom hem. Her ankles were exposed but she was wearing stockings close to her skin tone and slightly heeled black shoes that buckled across the top of her feet. Her sleeves ended at her elbows so he could see her pale skin but she wore dainty white gloves. She forewent a hat but an elaborate floral hairpiece was on the left side of her head and tiny trinkets hung from it. It even looked like she was wearing a bit of rouge and he caught the faint shade of a trendy lipstick.

(Sylvain’s philanderer days were mostly over now, but he had known enough girls to notice things like their makeup and clothes.)

In truth, he thought she looked beautiful.

“Wow, Marianne, life has truly been kind to you. You look amazing.”

He couldn’t stop staring and Marianne wanted to fidget, but she just clenched her hands at her waist. Compliments were still hard to accept sometimes. “Th-thank you. I put in a lot of effort to coordinate this.”

“Oh wow really? I didn’t take you as the type to take fashion so seriously.” He looked her up and down again, noticing new details. She noticed and felt self-conscious but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, um, Hilda and I have gotten back in touch and she sent me some pointers. She actually made this hair accessory.” She fiddled with it. It was a white rose made of silk, with bits of pale green lace as leaves, and tiny pink and yellow beads shaped vaguely like butterflies and bumblebees.

“Hey, that’s actually impressive. Oh! We can talk inside. Let me help with your bags.”

Sylvain had grabbed her trunk and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Years of being a Great Knight still contributed greatly to his physique and Marianne may have gone slightly weak at the knees at the display. “Oh, um, please be careful.”

“No worries,” he replied as he grabbed her other bag in his free hand. He led her to the entrance of his manor and two servants showed up to help take the luggage away. Sylvain directed them to which guest wing and they did so without question.

“I’m surprised your servants hadn’t greeted me first,” Marianne said, curiosity in her voice.

Sylvain cleared his throat, chuckling a little. “I, uh, may have been waiting for your arrival and shot out the door before anyone else could greet you.”

Marianne’s brows rose and she pursed her lips. Sylvain hadn’t changed that much, had he?

“Yeah, it’s definitely not something a noble should do,” he said with sarcasm in his voice, “but since our new world wants to be done with most nobility, I really don’t care what propriety is. You’re my guest and I want to be the one to greet you. We’re old friends, and I care. First impressions matter, you know?”

A very Sylvain response, but sincere as well. “No, you have a point. I’m glad you greeted me.”

“Heh, good.” He led her to the parlor. “Have a seat here. I can have someone make us tea. You still like the cinnamon blend, right?”

She in fact did. “Yes, I do!”

“Cool, I’ll let them know. Be back in a tick.”

She took in the look of the parlor. A little on the gaudy side, but that was the Gautier influence she supposed. Although it did look like some mild renovations had occurred, and it was still tasteful. The wallpaper was quite lovely, a soft red, close to pink but not quite, with white vertical stripes to make the walls seem taller, and the bottom half was made of a dark oak. The west wall was entirely glass with a door and it overlooked a garden with various plants and flowers that Marianne knew were strong against the colder Faerghus climate. It may have been early spring, but it was still a bit chilly. She saw daffodils and narcissus had been blooming and by the slightly drooping petals and leaves their season would be over soon. Beyond the garden she made out a lovely wooden lattice fence that separated the garden from what looked like a field and in the distance she could make out a stable. How wonderful. She hoped she could meet the horses, if Sylvain had any.

Back to the parlor, the floor was wood, the same shade as the bottom half of the walls and a giant Sreng carpet covered most of it. There were paintings, landscapes mostly, but Marianne did notice renderings of famous battles from the war. There was a bar that held various spirits but it looked like they weren’t used as often as she’d thought. She was sitting in one of the softly cushioned chairs that were incredibly comfortable but she still sat straight, her back never touching the head of the chair. There was a low table meant to entertain and be used to hold tiny sandwiches, pastries, tea or coffee. A lace doily was at the center, elegant in design. Along the window-wall was a beautiful chaise and next to it was a small bookshelf that Marianne saw had many nonfiction texts, but she did see a few more… bawdy titles. It was Sylvain after all, so she wasn’t entirely surprised he enjoyed a good trashy romance.

He returned with a tea tray that held a magnificent teapot, two cups, a bowl of sugar, a small pitcher of milk, and a few pastries. Marianne blushed at how domestic Sylvain was being. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t care much for propriety anymore.

He placed the tray on the table and sat across from Marianne. He began pouring the tea.

“Marianne, how do you like your tea?”

In truth, Marianne liked it just a tad sweet with medium amounts of milk. She told him as much and he got to work making it to her specifications. He then handed it to her on a saucer and made his own tea. He seemed a bit heavier on the sugar for his, but lighter in milk. He rose his cup in a toast.

“To being reunited,” he said with a grin. She blushed but toasted him. They drank and he placed his cup back on the table with its saucer. He sat back a bit, clearly comfortable, ready to make conversation.

“How have things been back in Leicester?” he asked.

She swallowed her tea and also placed it back on the table. She patted her mouth daintily with a handkerchief he also brought. She gave him a small smile.

“It’s been good. My adoptive father has been teaching me orator skills and working on my confidence. I want to be a good heir so I’ve also gotten to know more people to make better connections and have been working on policies I want to bring up to the council. Other than that, I’ve been spending more time horseback riding and...trying to enjoy life.” She looked down to her lap, wringing her hands. “I realized I squandered a lot of time hiding myself away.”

He sat forward, intent on listening and responding genuinely. “I think life is full of lessons we learn, and I wouldn’t say you squandered your time. It’s hard to gather confidence and function like everyone else. I wasn’t a very genuine person growing up, and I think sometimes I really did waste myself on flirting with women in order to try and vindicate myself. I shouldn’t have dated them in spite, but looking back, had I not, I wouldn’t have grown to be more honest and good to people, women and men alike. I like that I’m more sincere.” He grinned, sitting up, crossing his arms behind his head like his old school days. “What’s the saying? You attract more flies with honey than vinegar?”

She chuckled. “I don’t think you needed honey back in our school days. Vinegar or not, your charm, if fake, still seemed to garner you attention.”

“Hmm, maybe so, but I definitely was bitter when I broke up with girls.” His arms relaxed to his sides and he looked to the ceiling, thoughtful. “It really wasn’t right of me to test them like that.”

“As you said, it taught you to grow. We all grew during the war, some for better, some for worse.” She lifted her cup off the table to sip again, letting him think over her words.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He took a sip of his own tea. He then gestured to the pastries. “Please, feel free to take one.”

She did so, taking one with a napkin and nibbling on it. Raspberry preserves filled the flaky bread, with a light lemon glaze. It was delicious.

She patted her mouth again. “This is wonderful, Sylvain.”

He found he liked the way she said his name, soft, quiet, but it rolled off her tongue in a soothing way. He didn’t realize it, but he smiled at her, his eyes softening. He felt warm in a way he hadn’t in...years it seemed.

“I’m glad,” he responded, as quietly as her.

~*~

Marianne had come to Sylvain’s estate to learn more about policy, to observe his work with the people of Sreng. She saw how honest he was with them, how willingly he worked beside them, to teach them of a better way of life, and to create better ties with his neighbors. The people seemed to flock to him, and his natural charisma clearly helped him. Marianne saw how skilled he was and she grew to really admire him.

He brought her on his trips and always introduced her warmly to the people he would work with, calling her a ‘dear friend from school,’ and laying it on (rather thick) of how kind she was. Marianne felt embarrassed at first, wondering if she really was, but Sylvain always reminded her of how gentle she was, of how wonderful a healer she was, her thorough care of animals (he did introduce her to the horses he kept and sometimes went horseback riding with her through the forest and mountains near his home), and her growth into a mature and confident woman. A part of her wondered if he was trying to butter her up for something later, but he was always genuine and never asked anything of her. He was glad to show her around the towns, they even went to Fhirdiad to tour the more historical locations (the castle was one but it was more of a museum now than an actual residence for royalty), and he always took her to tea houses and other establishments of entertainment and she found it quite fascinating. He showered her in souvenirs even though she felt she didn’t deserve them, but they were simple and practical, beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs, candles, some sweets. Again, she often wondered his motives, but again, he asked nothing of her.

He tried taking her to a dance hall once, something that was becoming more of a norm, and it was mostly informal, people wearing nice but not explicitly formal clothes, and the style of dancing wasn’t rigid like the waltzes Marianne had learned (and forgotten) years ago. Movements were loose, even wild, and bodies tended to be closer. Sylvain offered to teach her this ‘swing’ style of dance, ‘jazzy’ tunes playing, but Marianne politely refused, saying this wasn’t quite her thing. She did enjoy watching the people, even if it made her sad she still wasn’t totally willing to join. Sylvain did dance with a few ladies, looking happy, but he always returned to Marianne after a dance, to implore her to dance with him. The first few times he took her to these places, she had refused. But one night, she drank a stronger spirit, whiskey brewed and then imported all across Fódlan from Fódlan’s Locket (Hilda mentioned in a letter it became extremely popular), and found it empowered her, made her brave in a way she hadn’t been in so long, and agreed to share a dance with him.

She had only taken one shot, but it settled warmly in her chest and she felt...invincible. Like nothing could faze her. She took Sylvain’s hand and he led her to the center of the dance floor, something that made her acutely aware of the stares she received, this companion of Sylvain’s who never entertained his antics. He led her through a few basic moves, telling her to relax her posture, loosen her arms, waist, and legs, allow herself to follow his movements. When she got it down, a faster number began to play and Sylvain led her perfectly. She twirled in his arms, he got a bit bold with his hands at her waist (nothing too inappropriate) and would swing her, her hands at his shoulders, and he’d let her down, hand moving to hers as they stepped away and then immediately returned to each other, bodies closer than they ever were before. She rolled across his back in one bold maneuver, she swung between his legs at another, and at one point he held her by the waist in one arm, his torso supporting her as they spun like a merry-go-round, opposite arms raised high in the air. When the dance was over, Marianne felt exhilarated, adrenaline rushing through her body. She laughed harder than she ever had and he swept her up in a hug and laughed along with her. When they parted, they looked into each other’s eyes, lost in them, but then Marianne realized the whiskey’s effect was no longer present, that she was smiling, laughing, _dancing_ of her own free will, of her own desire to dance with Sylvain, and she looked away, knowing she may have let him be a little too familiar with her. But she had wanted this and just needed a little kick. Sylvain realized she was shocked at her behavior and led her away from the center, giving her space to process what she had done. He found her a glass of water and let her drink not only to hydrate herself from such a high-spirited dance, but to also wake her up from whatever daze she put herself in. She nodded in thanks and gulped it down in such an unladylike way Sylvain didn’t think she’d ever do, but he chuckled and drank his own water.

They stayed to the side for a while, watching the other dancers having a good time, silent, but they were comfortable. Marianne was standing closer to Sylvain than normal and though he wanted to wrap an arm around her waist, he didn’t want to make this awkward, to imply feelings he wasn’t sure he was actually feeling. He did drink more whiskey than her, even had a beer or two, and though his tolerance was very high, he definitely felt a bit looser than he normally was. He was sober enough though to guard his actions.

The night winded down and slower music was played, sultry tunes played on brass and stringed instruments. Sylvain eventually did turn to her when he noticed the song they played every night to signify the place was about to close, about to escort the patrons out of the building so they could clean and put away things just to prepare for another fun-filled night tomorrow. He bowed to her slightly and looked at her nearly at eye level and asked, “Marianne, may I have this final dance?”

Her eyes widened a bit at how chivalrous he was being but she felt comfortable and at ease. She nodded and offered her hand. He took it and led her to the center again where they swayed to the gentle music. She couldn’t meet his eyes at first, looking just past his shoulder, but after a few beats her gaze did flutter toward his and she saw how soft it was, showing how serene and content he felt. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry but she couldn’t look away. She felt her own gaze soften and he smiled wider.

The music ended and Sylvain led her home, this time with elbows linked.

He longed to hold her hand.

~*~

The next day the weather turned for the worst, almost as if it was punishing the two for sharing such a tender moment the previous night. It stormed, thunder crashing, lightning flashing. It was early summer and the rainy season was overdue.

A torrential downpour drenched the entire day, preventing Sylvain from attending his normal duties. He had a private library he spent most of the day reading by candlelight in, as the newly installed electric lights had gone down due to the weather, tall bookshelves lining the walls. A few armchairs were in the center with a round table in the middle of them, once used for strategy meetings when his father was alive, but Sylvain mostly used it now to hold the many books he’d bring from the shelves as well as coffee. His time in the war made him accustomed to the bitter but subtle flavors of the beverage thanks to Hubert, and he found it was very comforting to drink while reading a long novel. Marianne had joined him, sitting adjacent to him as she worked on an embroidery project Bernadetta had sent her. The two girls, equally shy, had opened up to each other slowly and Marianne had decided to write her and tell her about her adventures with Sylvain. Bernadetta, Marianne had come to learn, was quite the romantic and had written to her saying it was sweet, maybe even fated, but then apologized for projecting a fantasy onto her friend. Bernadetta mentioned she and Hubert had gotten strangely close whenever she visited Enbarr and admitted she had started to enjoy his presence more and more, even if he still frightened her.

Marianne, as she applied needle and thread to delicate fabric, wondered about Bernadetta’s musings but said nothing. She did feel oddly at peace with Sylvain, but given that she was temporarily living in his home, it only made sense. Her adoptive father had sent a message asking when she was intending on coming home to apply her lessons from Gautier territory and Marianne found she didn’t want to respond at first. She actually wasn’t sure. Sylvain’s work had become fascinating for her and she enjoyed her time with him. Duty did call and she knew she’d have to leave eventually but she figured perhaps by the end of the summer she would. The days were becoming unbearably hot and the idea of taking a carriage to her territory in such aggravating weather was agonizing. Coming home closer to fall was a better idea and she wrote as much. Her adoptive father did respond saying it was starting to become improper for a young, unmarried woman to stay for such an extended amount of time in a bachelor’s home, but she replied in turn that Sylvain was a perfect gentleman and her time in Faerghus was proving to be quite productive and had sent him examples of things she learned and ideas she had for the politics in her own territory. She did mention that she enjoyed seeing the wildlife that came about as the seasons changed and she was interested in learning more about them. His letter did seem a bit frustrated at her sudden stubbornness, but he gave his blessing regardless saying he’d write her again near the end of the summer and hoped she would apply her newfound knowledge when she returned.

As the day went on, the two sitting in comfortable silence, the sky had only continued to darken and the night was impossibly black. They didn’t even notice sundown until a servant came in to tell Sylvain it was evening and time for supper soon. Sylvain expressed gratitude, finished the paragraph he was on, marked his place, and got up. Marianne had put away her project and Sylvain helped her up.

They had dinner, Sylvain conversing with her about the book he was reading, and Marianne listened attentively, asking reasonable questions. It was one of the few fictional pieces he owned and he praised the author’s use of imagery and symbolism. The book interested Marianne and he told her she was free to read it now if she wanted to, so she could catch up and they could discuss the things going on, maybe even reading it side by side once she was caught up. The implication of such closeness excited Marianne, when normally she’d shy away. She agreed, they finished dinner, and made their way to bed.

Marianne’s quarters were on the opposite side of the estate, far away from Sylvain’s, which gave her reasonable space, considering the conflicting feelings she was starting to develop. She decided she’d bathe before bed, hoping the warm water would wash her doubts away.

She sat for a long time in the tub, surrounded by hot water and fragrant oils to relax her. She eventually got up when the water became tepid and dried herself, putting on a robe, then brushing her teeth and hair. She walked into her room, dressing behind the partition into a comfortable nightgown that was perhaps a little ugly, but it was very comfortable. She kept her hair loose, foregoing the normal braids she put it in to keep it tame, and climbed into bed, cocooning herself into her fluffy blankets. She fell asleep fairly quickly now that the rain had calmed for a moment.

The peaceful slumber did not last long however.

~*~

Sylvain woke to frantic knocking on his door. He lighted a lamp to look at the clock on his nightstand to see it was three in the morning. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, telling the insistent knocker that he would be there in a moment.

He shook his head in a final attempt to wake up, cleared his throat, and climbed out. He went to his door and opened it, revealing a very nervous and teary Marianne with messy hair and a frightened look in her eye.

Quivering, she stuttered out, “M-may I please come in?”

“Of course, Marianne! Please.” He opened the door wider and she scampered in. She turned to him, staring at him with eyes of a woman who had seen a ghost.

He closed the door, leaning his back against it, staring back at her with an inquisitive look. “What’s wrong?”

She had started to sniffle, a tear or two dripping down her face. “I-I had a nightmare.” She winced as she said it.

“Oh? Do you want to talk about it?” He pushed off the door and approached her cautiously. “I won’t judge. Nightmares suck.”

She absolutely _did not_ want to talk about it. In her dream, she had been with Sylvain, walking around the forest on a moonlit night. It was so pleasant and enjoyable but had taken a dark turn quickly.

Sylvain had turned to her, a boyish look on his face. He was smiling and his mouth was moving but it sounded like gibberish. Marianne couldn’t make it out at first but it became clearer the more she concentrated in her dream.

“Marianne, you make me so happy.” He had taken her hand and she could _feel it_. “I love you beyond anything else in this world.”

Her heart felt so full. She was smiling, struck silent but happy nonetheless. Before she could muster up her courage to tell him she loved him as well, there was a crack of a twig, a rustling of trees that did not sound natural, and a Demonic Beast had come out of the shadows, rushing towards them. Marianne remembered wanting to scream but her voice wouldn’t work. She was breathless, suffocating, and Sylvain had pushed her out of the way, demanding she run as the Lance of Ruin materialized in his hands and he rushed towards the Beast. Marianne had found her voice, screaming as the Demonic Beast knocked the Lance to the side, snapping it in two, and ripped Sylvain to shreds. She suddenly realized she had her own sword Blutgang and tried to rush at the beast as Sylvain had done but her legs were weak, like pudding, and she was running in slow motion. The beast had raised a scaly, bloody, clawed paw, gaping maw filled with too many fangs, dripping with blood and drool, and suddenly there was nothingness as Marianne forced herself to waken, her body jolting as her eyes flashed open, tense from fear, frozen. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she heard the rain had come back, still loud and frightening and a particularly bright flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder made her jump. She started to hyperventilate, clutching her chest as the rain continued to pound at the roof and windows and when the noise became unbearable, when her tears wouldn’t seem to stop, she scrambled out of bed to run towards Sylvain’s room. He had shown her once before where his quarters were in case she needed to find him if he wasn’t anywhere else in the house but she had never set foot in it before. Breathless, she had paused, thinking it was terribly rude to wake him at such an hour, but the wind howling reminded her of the Beast’s growl and she had rapped on the door hoping he was still there, desperate to be in his presence so she could know he was safe. Marianne wasn’t very strong, she could wield her family’s Relic but she knew she was better at healing than anything, and even though she was scared, she wanted to be able to protect him. Dream Marianne was weak as she watched him being torn apart and couldn’t fight the Beast, but Real Marianne could at least run to him to prove to herself it was a dream, that he was still here, corporeal and tangible. She wanted to look into his eyes full of life, not a dead, faraway, glassy gaze. When he had opened the door, confused and sleepy, she felt instant relief.

Marianne, still trembling, shook her head. “It’s too...gruesome.”

“Ah, okay.” He looked away, unsure of how to comfort such a distressed woman. He looked up to see her still staring at the floor, hands wringing and wrinkling her nightgown. She was restless and Sylvain knew the perfect way to shake out such a negative feeling was to move.

“I know what will make you feel better,” he said quietly.

She looked up suddenly, still that fearful look in her eyes. “What?”

“We can dance.”

Marianne’s initial reaction was to refuse, still rigid with fright. But Sylvain had walked to a phonograph on a chest of drawers, filing through records and found one he seemed satisfied with. He placed it on the phonograph, winding the lever until it activated, and soft music consisting of a harp and violin played its soothing melody. Marianne felt the tension melt away from her shoulders and Sylvain approached her, bowing to her like that night at the dance hall.

“May I have this dance, Marianne?” he asked, grinning.

She paused, but took a deep breath.

“Y-yes.”

As he once did, he took her hand and led her to closer to the phonograph. The dance itself wasn’t complicated, just small steps and swaying, but Sylvain’s hand at her waist, other hand holding hers in a loose grip, made her feel secure. His thumb ran along her side soothingly, his fingers on the other hand pulsing a bit to remind her he was there and wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her fall down such a road of despair again. Their bodies were close, soaking in the other’s warmth and when the song ended, another soon beginning, Marianne rested her head on his chest, her arms lowering to wrap around his waist.

“Th-thank you, Sylvain,” she said quietly, tightening her grip. Her voice set pleasant vibrations to his heart and he felt his pulse quicken. He wrapped both arms around her shoulders, nestling his face at the crown of her head.

“You are always welcome, Marianne.”

They stayed like that, clutching each other as if the other would float away like a spectre, but the rain had lessened allowing for a more calm atmosphere.

When the silence became unbearable for Sylvain, he loosened his grip, hands at her shoulders. He looked at her, a crooked, sleepy smile on his face. He was becoming too overcome with slumber so his brain wasn’t thinking and his heart was doing the talking.

“Come to bed with me. You can stay as long as you need to.” He embraced her again.

Marianne also felt exhaustion seep into her bones. Her brain became foggier, and she heard herself mumble “okay,” and, with an arm around her shoulders as he led her, she climbed into his bed. She was on the far side, and he allowed her the space. Sylvain may not have shied away in the past about holding a woman in his arms as he slept, but this was Marianne and even if he was sleep-addled, he remembered she would probably immediately leave.

He kept his gaze on her as she settled in. She turned to face him, eyes half-closed, her mouth a crescent moon as she gave him one of the wider smiles he’d ever receive.

“Thank you...for accepting me.”

He hummed in response and grasped her hand. He squeezed it as gently as he could, liking the warmth.

“Thank _you_ for accepting _me_.”

She giggled, still holding his hand, and her eyes eventually closed, but she was still smiling and Sylvain felt happiness fill his chest to the brim.

He too succumbed to slumber, their hands still gripping.

~*~

When Marianne woke, she was looking at a wall she didn’t quite recognize. The bed felt different, she felt warm in a way she hadn’t before, but then a creaking of the bed and light snores announced the presence of another person in the room. Marianne’s mind started to clear and she realized Sylvain was in her, no, _his_ , bed. She was _in his bed_ and she did not know how to feel about that.

She knew they hadn’t done anything...naughty, but her thoughts started to clear and she remembered being upset about a nightmare, she ran to his room, and they danced. She had calmed and fell asleep. The thought of being there in his room didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would, but she did feel like she slightly imposed upon him, like she invaded his space. It was Sylvain after all and he never showed any signs of annoyance with her, had in fact been a perfect host, but Marianne still felt self-conscious about it.

She didn’t want to move because she thought it would wake him up, but she did turn to see him facing her, mouth slightly agape as he slept, arm under his head, the other across his chest. He looked peaceful, even a bit silly. His curly hair was even more wild than usual but Marianne thought it was cute, something she wasn’t meant to see, but glad to see it anyway. It humanized Sylvain in a way that not everyone saw him as. She remembered how people thought he was a brainless flirt, but he was quite perceptive, shrewd even, but he learned to loosen up more than he already was. Marianne realized Sylvain was a friend she didn’t know she needed.

_Is he just a friend?_ she thought, thinking of the ways they bonded over the past few months, how she didn’t want to leave. She wouldn’t have felt that way with any other person.

No, Sylvain was...something more, something she never experienced before, and she couldn’t quite name it yet, or maybe didn’t want to.

He did stir and woke up to see her staring at him. He chuckled, sleep still evident in his voice. It was low, rough, and it sent chills up her spine. That was definitely not what she expected to feel.

“Morning,” he said, stretching his body out and yawning. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” she answered, watching how the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he still stretched. She actually expected him to sleep _nude_ , but he was wearing a cotton sleeping shirt and pants, and they were fitted enough that she could see his physique in almost perfect detail.

“Glad to hear it.” He sat up, stretched once more, and got out. He turned to her, smiling still. “Stay right there. I’ve got an idea.”

She wondered what he meant and felt a bit of trepidation, but she had come to trust him and agreed.

“Cool. I’ll be back soon.”

He put on a robe and left the room, shutting it behind him. Was she expected to eventually dress? Her clothes weren’t in his room obviously, but he said to stay… She decided she’d wait and see and sat against the head board, hands in her lap. Her thoughts wandered over many topics: how she knew she should leave at the end of the summer, that that’s what she told her adoptive father, how kind Sylvain had been, how much she had learned so far, how much she had grown as a person. Life in Gautier territory was quite nice. She looked at the window, the curtains swept back a bit, and she could see the weather wasn’t as bad. Still cloudy, but it wouldn’t rain. She couldn’t feel it in the air.

Sylvain returned with a tray in his hands. She smelled breakfast. Had he... _made_ her breakfast and serving it to her in bed?! The aroma was lovely; smoky bacon, eggs, waffles. She saw a glass of juice, looked like white cranberry, and a vial of syrup and a tiny bowl of butter. He placed the tray over her lap and grinned.

“I wasn’t the best cook in school, but I’ve been practicing on and off and wanted to treat you. Hope it tastes alright.” She nodded and thanked him.

It in fact tasted wonderful. Her face lit up in delight at how fluffy the waffles were, how crispy the bacon was, soft but not runny eggs. It was perfect.

She patted her mouth daintily. He had sat next to her as she ate, watching her, looking for any signs of displeasure. She inclined her head towards him.

“It’s wonderful, Sylvain. It’s a lovely gesture and I’m enjoying myself.”

He smirked bashfully, hand scratching the back of his head. “I’m glad. I just wanted to make you feel better.”

“You’ve done that in spades. I’m very fortunate you were there for me last night.”

“You want to talk about it now? I’ve had my share of nightmares since the war and I’ve always wanted to share, but no one wants to listen. At least, I doubt they would.”

She thought about it solemnly. Telling him what happened might upset him, or imply she felt things she wasn’t sure she felt. It might have changed the dynamic between them, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen. Things were comfortable now, and Marianne didn’t want change.

“I’m not sure you’d like to hear it. It was very unpleasant,” she said quietly.

“Oh.” He pondered her words. “Was I...in it?”

She stayed silent, sipping her juice. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “...yes.”

“Oh… I...didn’t do anything to you in the dream, did I?”

It bothered her he’d say that. He was indubitably kind this entire time and she wondered why he’d think she would have a dream where he wasn’t.

“Not at all. You were,” _wonderful, kind, gentle,_ “uh, nice. It wasn’t what you did at all.” Plus, had he done something in the dream, she wouldn’t have run to him in the first place.

He hummed. “Did something happen to me?”

She moved the food around her plate with her fork. “Let me finish breakfast and then I’ll tell you.” That way, maybe he’d forget the topic and move on to something else.

“Of course.” He stood up. “I’ll brush my teeth, wash my face a bit. I should probably shave.” He rubbed his chin and she could hear the faint scratchy sound of stubble. “I’ll take your dishes when you’re done.”

She felt that was totally unnecessary, that he had servants and should have let them do their jobs, but Sylvain had proven to become very unconventional. She found she liked it.

She nodded and continued eating. He left to go about his business.

By the time he finished, she was done with the food. “I’ll take that,” he said and he marched off to have the dishes and cutlery washed. He came back and she was still in his bed, waiting for him.

He got in bed with her, body turned, head resting on his hand. “So… What happened in the dream?”

She hoped he’d forget but he wasn’t as simple as others thought. She sighed.

“It was horrible,” she started, her voice shaking. She decided she wouldn’t tell him the loving comments he said at the start of the dream.

“We were walking together in the forest. We were talking, but it wasn’t intelligible. You know how dreams are.” She fidgeted with her hands.

Sylvain felt like she had to have understood _something_ , but dreams were indeed weird so he didn’t press it. “Go on.”

“A Demonic Beast broke through the trees and you went to fight it, to protect me. You had your Relic in your hand.”

He started piecing it together. “Oh no...”

“It...killed you.” She wasn’t going to talk about how bloody it was, how detailed her mind made it. “I was horrified and had my own Relic but I couldn’t move. It was like my legs lost their bones. I could barely stand.”

His eyes widened. “Oh Marianne...”

“I woke up before it killed me too.” She shuddered. “The storm had gotten so loud. I couldn’t stay alone. I...had to see that you were still alive.”

She trembled, crossing her arms around herself. She shut her eyes, trying to fight back tears. His arms were suddenly around her, and he held her close, her head tucked under his chin.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he felt sobs wrack her body. “I’m still here. No Demonic Beast is gonna take me down.” He was pretty sure they weren’t even a thing anymore since Edelgard had instructed her army to destroy any Crest Stone they came upon. He at least hadn’t seen one in years.

“I know,” she cried. “It just… It was horrible, Sylvain.” She continued to cry.

He shushed her gently, rubbing his hands down her arm. “I know.” He rocked her, swaying her like he would an upset child. She was obviously no child, but she was someone who needed comfort and this was the only thing Sylvain could think to do, like it was instinct.

She eventually calmed down, sniffling, and he tightened his grip. He didn’t want to say anything else to push her to more tears.

Sylvain had an inkling of why she’d have a dream like that. She didn’t say it, but it was becoming clearer that she had become incredibly fond of him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed, because he was affectionate towards her, if jokingly at first in order to get her to open up, but she had reciprocated so much that he was sometimes pleasantly surprised. She smiled more than he had ever seen her, and girls that smiled that much, that genuinely, usually held...feelings.

The idea of Marianne harboring feelings for him made his insides warm. He wasn’t going to tease her about it. In all the time he knew her, he never heard about her having a crush on someone. He doubted she was ever willingly courted. He was sure the Margrave Edmund had arranged for suitors, but he knew Marianne would have rejected any would-be husbands. Now that the Crest system was dismantled, arranged marriages for the intent of having Crest-bearing heirs was no longer a thing, even if some nobles still pushed for it. He hoped the Margrave respected Marianne’s wishes.

She pulled away and he let her go. She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.”

“Not at all,” he disagreed. “You were upset. I’m glad you opened up to me.”

“Sylvain… If you had a bad dream about me, would you have told me?”

In truth? He wouldn’t have willingly. He wouldn’t want to upset her, much like she didn’t want to upset him.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t want to either. I think if prodded enough, I would, but… I don’t know, I feel like I shouldn’t upset you with something like that.” He sighed. “But I wanted to comfort you. Maybe it’s because I wanted to be chivalrous. I feel like I should protect you.” He rubbed his face with one hand. “Granted, I know you have been in the war, we literally fought on the same side, so obviously you can take it, but… It still doesn’t sit right with me. You’re strong, trust me, you are, but you don’t have to shoulder your burdens alone, is what I’m trying to say.”

She found she really liked that answer. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He blushed. “I’m glad you think so. I think you’re really great, Marianne. It’s been awesome we’ve spent all this time together.” He chuckled. “If you ever get sick of me, let me know. I’ll give you space.”

She didn’t want him to pull away. “No. I wouldn’t get sick of you.”

“I was mostly kidding, but it makes me happy to hear you say that.”

It was her turn to blush. “Oh. I didn’t mean to be sentimental.”

“Trust me, I like a little sentimentality every now and again. It makes us human.” He sat back, arms supporting him. He had an idea.

“Marianne, if you ever need to come to me in the night again, you are free to do so. You can stay as long as you like, days even. You don’t have to leave until you’re ready to.”

She was surprised to hear him say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. And don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to seduce you. This is a,” he didn’t want to say _friend_ , “comrade-in-arms supporting another comrade.” _Wow, that was smooth, Sylvain._

That felt a bit clunky to say in her opinion, and she caught how he paused. Comrade-in-arms felt so much more distant than friend, and it made her doubt he saw her anything beyond a comrade.

“I think we’re more than comrades, Sylvain,” she said softly. “Maybe ‘friend’ isn’t quite the right term, but we’ve...grown close.”

He pursed his lips, agreeing with her, but hesitant to say so. This was such a delicate topic and anything he said could potentially push her away. But if she felt like that enough to say it, maybe she was willing to hear more. “You’re right, of course. I just think ‘friend’ doesn’t encapsulate our relationship the way it should.”

“It doesn’t, but maybe we’ll find a word that better fits us.” It was embarrassing to say, but she slept in his bed because of a nightmare. They were past the point of being embarrassed.

His ears perked at her words. _Us_. That felt intimate. Maybe...there really was something beyond their kinship. Something that he was scared to pursue because Marianne had grown to be a special lady in his life, and, to be frank, he didn’t want to lose her.

Gone was the philanderer boy who gave girls lipstick as a way of wooing them, who called them ‘baby’ and said he’d never look at another girl. The one who said he loved all women when he didn’t. Here was the genuine man who held back because he wanted to respect boundaries. The one who longed to be close and have real feelings for someone. Sylvain knew there was a glowing ember between them and he wanted Marianne to make it spark.

~*~

Later on that night, Marianne had went to bed after a pleasant dinner with Sylvain. The roads had proven to be a muddy mess and a few trees had fallen down from the weather, so Sylvain had to tend to that sort of thing all day, ensuring his property was safe and cleaned up. Marianne had stayed inside and worked on more sewing. When Sylvain had returned, he was in need of a washing and told her he’d see her at dinner.

Now it was night, Marianne had just gotten under the covers, but she couldn’t sleep. Every flicker of a shadow became a Demonic Beast out to kill her. She heard an owl calling, crickets, all sorts of sounds that normally wouldn’t have bothered her, but the nightmare still felt so fresh and she couldn’t bare it anymore.

She knew Sylvain was probably in bed, if not already completely asleep, but she found she was too nervous and went to him again. A soft knock, a creaking of the bed, and then his door was open. He looked down at her in surprise but when she saw the frown on her face, the way she fiddled with the ends of her hair, he let her in.

She was instantly under the blankets, cocooning herself. Sylvain chuckled at how comfortable she was making herself.

“Wouldn’t you say you’re getting a little too familiar with me, Marianne?” he joked with flirtatious fervor. He couldn’t help it; a beautiful lady was in his bed and his bad habits came back.

“I…!” Her eyes widened and the blush on her face was so deep, so crimson, that Sylvain instantly felt ashamed he brought attention to it. “I can leave! I’m so sorry.”

“No no! I’m just pulling your leg. I told you that you can always come to me.” He chuckled nervously. “You can stay as long as you need. I really don’t mind.”

She sighed in relief. She didn’t want to leave anyway, but her fear of somehow upsetting him with her presence was still so strong. She was afraid of annoying him, that she was too much to bear, and that he’d just throw her away…

_No,_ Marianne thought. _I can’t keep thinking like that. He’s been so kind to me. He wouldn’t offer his bed to me if he didn’t mean it. I’m better than this._ She rubbed her eyes a bit to try and make herself understand those thoughts.

Sylvain got in next to her, still giving her ample space. He was on his back, looking at the ceiling. He wanted to have a conversation but found he had no words.

_I...think I have it bad. Like, real bad._ He tried not to sigh so it came out as a yawn instead.

“Ah, let’s go to sleep, Marianne. I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said simply, turning off the lamp on his side. Marianne hummed in response and turned hers off as well.

~*~

Sylvain would come to find Marianne in his bed often. He suggested she just move her things into his room since she was in there so often. She had blushed, was actually extremely embarrassed, but he was sincere about it and eventually some of her things found their way into his room. She mostly dressed in her own room, but some of her toiletries like her toothbrush and comb found themselves in his attached bathroom. They woke up together, brushed their teeth and washed their faces side by side, eyeing each other in the looking glass. Marianne’s eyes would crinkle in delight at his bright smile, and he in turn would chuckle, happy to see her smiling face. They’d attend breakfast together and then Sylvain would practice politics as he had been, Marianne at his side, observing and sometimes even suggesting things. Sylvain found he liked her insight quite a lot.

In fact, he liked _her_ quite a lot.

Yes, he, Sylvain Jose Gautier, had it _bad_ for Marianne. He couldn’t get enough of her and he knew that the end of the summer would be the end of their time. If he suddenly asked to court her, asked her adoptive father for his blessing, it would have looked extremely suspicious since she had been staying there for so long and why else would Sylvain suddenly make a move on Margrave Edmund’s precious heir? He fell for her at the worst possible time, or perhaps he always liked her, and her prolonged presence just made it more defined.

He didn’t want her to leave, but he would have no choice but to let her go when the time came. He would soak up every ounce of her that he could for the time being and hope that maybe, one day, Marianne would come back, or she’d invite him to her territory so he could ask her properly. The timing right now was bad. How stupidly love worked.

He had...weeks with her left. He’d just have to rein in his feelings and not let them be obvious.


	2. A Bold Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/27/2020: Here's the second half with the good good. ;)

It was about a week until her departure that something changed. There was something in Marianne’s eyes that night that left Sylvain a little on edge. It wasn’t her normal aversion of staring, her shy looks at the ground. No, this time she was staring him in the face, and there was a small smile, and a look of...something unfamiliar glimmer across her sweet gaze. He felt cosmic electricity flit through his veins as he tried to figure out that look… He _knew_ it, of course, and he wanted it to be true.

Their routine had become something he was extremely fond of. They woke up together, ate together, Sylvain got to introduce her to people. They went dancing and shopping and Marianne would show off her smile to everyone. She was an absolute charmer and if Sylvain wasn’t _the_ charmer incarnate he’d be even more impressed. But seeing Marianne grow into such an amazing woman in the few months she stayed with him really left Sylvain speechless. Sylvain had gotten so used to her being in his presence nearly at all times, her gentle breaths as she slept, her giggles over breakfast, even her embarrassed admissions of saying she would be bathing just to warn him not to walk into the washroom. He liked it. It was familiar and _domestic_ , and mister Sylvain Jose Gautier was not one to ever feel domestic. In his days at Garreg Mach, he was the philanderer, the flirt, the guy who broke every girl’s heart. He didn’t know the definition of domestic. But now… It was an endearing thought.

However, in this moment, this wasn’t the woman who came to him when she had a nightmare that one night, the woman who admitted she hadn’t danced with anyone, the one that fell asleep in his bed and slept there ever after. No, this was...a _woman_.

Sylvain felt a familiar ache build into his loins. That look only meant one thing.

“Sylvain,” she said quietly, holding her gaze firmly. “I have a request tonight.”

“Y-yeah, go ahead,” he stuttered out, wincing that he sounded so surprised. His throat was dry and he swallowed, feeling his throat bob painfully.

If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. She took a breath. “You’ve been very kind to me, and I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. I’m very thankful that you’ve looked out for me, let me stay for a prolonged period in your room, and not complaining about it.” She looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed she had been so weak in the past. Sylvain didn’t think it was weak though.

“Well, yeah, Marianne. You’re my guest and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable as long as you stay here. I actually like that you...uh, want to be around me.” He looked away a bit sheepishly, scratching his head. Where did the honeyed words go? He felt so clumsy, so _shy_ , and it wasn’t in character for him. He felt vulnerable but it was okay, because this was Marianne and she would never shame him.

She smiled at him warmly. “That’s really nice to hear. I sometimes worry I am becoming a burden.”

“Far from it!” He said as he looked back at her. Her smile was captivating. “I’m glad we can shoulder our burdens together.”

He could see she was blushing in the candlelight. It was very late and though Sylvain and Marianne enjoyed staying up way into the night, talking about books they enjoyed, even reading passages aloud to each other, and perhaps writing silly stories as well, today had been taxing. Getting ready for the gala that was held earlier that evening had taken all day, as measurements had to be taken by the tailors to make last minute adjustments on their finery, and Sylvain giving Marianne a refresher on formal dancing (because the swing dancing became something they were probably a little too fond of now), and then the gala itself where she couldn’t seem to stop dancing with him, taking in a little fine wine and gourmet food; it was exhausting and they were glad it was over.

It was all to celebrate how well things were going between Sreng and Faerghus. To Sylvain, it was the final chance to dance with Marianne.

She didn’t say anything at first, chewing her words to figure out how to word whatever she was planning to say. The least Sylvain could do was coax her a bit.

“You can say whatever you need to say. I’m open minded and here for you.”

She sighed. “Well, I, um… I feel like I could use a bath. I just want to relax a bit more. Today was a lot.”

That was all? That sounded like a normal request for privacy. He may have only been slightly disappointed she didn’t have something more to say.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I feel like I could use a soak myself but ladies first.” He made to leave so she could get ready in privacy. He heard her clear her throat though.

He turned around to see her fidgeting, playing with her skirt. It was such a lovely shade of navy blue, smooth silky fabric clinging to her just right, with gold embellishments and a gold sash tied tightly around her waist. Ladies usually wore girdles or corsets under their clothing, and bodices as well which were a bit more comfortable while still stylish. Sylvain was intimately aware of that and an expert at lacing, tying, and unlacing those items because he quite enjoyed the female form and all its enticements. But Marianne, who hadn’t ever worn really formfitting things, and usually liked comfort, wore that dress like a goddess. It didn’t show any more skin than she usually exposed, but it was so flattering on her and enhanced her features so well, that Sylvain couldn’t take his eyes off her. Sylvain found he wanted to undress her, but… Well, he’d wait for her permission.

“Is there something else?” he asked when she didn’t speak up. She looked up in surprise.

“Yes, there is...” she whispered.

Oh. She was embarrassed at what she was going to say. Sylvain walked a bit closer to her, and knelt down to be at eye level. He placed a hand comfortingly on her knee. She did not flinch from his touch. In fact, she moved a bit closer to him, bending over slightly to look him more squarely in the eye.

“Go ahead, Marianne,” he whispered back and he could really smell her gentle perfume. If he moved an inch closer he could have kissed her.

She inclined her head next to his ear. “I’d like for us to bathe together.”

Sylvain did not pull away, even though the shock should have made him. He felt himself freeze for a moment, taking a pause as he processed her words. She hadn’t moved, perhaps still too shy about her request, so Sylvain turned his head so he could whisper in her own ear.

“I’d like that very much, Marianne.”

She pulled away, a tiny simper lighting up her face. “I’m...glad. I was afraid you’d refuse.”

“Me? Refuse a pretty lady for such a bold request? Of course not.” He got up, taking her hand to help her. “Let’s head in there and get to know each other,” he said as he winked.

She squeaked a bit but tightened her grip. He led her to his attached washroom and locked the door.

Something he really enjoyed about Edelgard’s rule was that progress in Fódlan had improved exponentially. Sylvain wasn’t quite sure how the technology worked, as it certainly wasn’t magic, but the ‘electric light’ was a thing now and many houses, estates, even castles, had wiring installed and it made things so much easier. Sylvain still liked the appeal of candles and lamps, it was sexy to be frank, but brighter lighting in a bathroom was much more convenient.

Another thing he enjoyed was indoor plumbing. No more were the days where servants had to prepare baths with hot water, which was an arduous task and made bathing downright annoying when it was essential. Now, he could turn a knob a certain way and the water would come out hot, and adjustments here and there would get it to an appropriate temperature. Toilets ‘flushed’ now, so chamber pots were no longer a thing, thank the goddess. People could ‘shower’ now, which some saw as a much faster way to bathe, although baths were still pleasant and very relaxing. Because of these improvements, bathing was much more common, so people smelled better all the time without having to pour or spray copious amounts of cologne or perfume when it wasn’t a bathing day.

Sylvain readied the bath, allowing the faucet to fill the tub with hot water. The tub was porcelain, square, which was apparently a Dagdan style, and it could easily fit two people, so it was perfect for this current situation. Sylvain poured a bit of a new product that merchants were raving about, called ‘bubble bath’ that let water become fluffy with bubbles and it smelled very nice. Sylvain really enjoyed them, and he hoped Marianne did too. Plus, it obscured the water, so if she was still a bit shy, the bubble bath would allow her some modesty.

He turned around to see her undoing her hair from its braided up-do and he watched as the pale blue tresses cascaded down her back little by little. Her hair had been cut recently, so it reached just at her shoulder blades rather than her waist, but it seemed much healthier. Perhaps the air suited her more here so she could take better care of it.

He approached her from behind, combing his fingers through her hair to untangle it. They looked at each other in the mirror and he loved her adorable blush. She let him continue, and Sylvain couldn’t help himself as he bent forward to nuzzle into her hair and enjoy its scent. Marianne giggled and bent back a bit, enjoying the affectionate gesture.

“You sure are opening up, Marianne. I hope you didn’t have too much to drink.” He was suddenly worried that maybe her newfound confidence was due to the wine.

“No, I didn’t drink that much so I’m perfectly sober now.” she replied.

“Oh good. I didn’t want to take advantage of you if you weren’t.”

She smiled more widely. “Don’t worry. You’re fine.”

He chuckled, enjoying her smiles aimed at him. He let his hands fall from her shoulders and wrap protectively at her waist, pulling her in so he could embrace her deeper. “I like your smile. I’m glad you’re happy here.”

She sighed, enjoying the closeness, something she didn’t realize she craved. “Me too. Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure,” he purred into her ear. He felt her shiver.

Without thinking, running on instinct, he kissed her neck. He felt her shiver again.

“Marianne, have you ever been kissed?” It was a genuine question, although he was sure he knew the answer.

“N-no, I haven’t.” she sighed. “I’ve never been pursued in that way, although my adoptive father wanted to throw suitors my way. Most were put off by my dreary demeanor.”

“Well, it’s their loss, because you’ve become an incredible woman.” he said seriously. He kissed the back of her neck, right at her hairline. She squeaked.

He hoped she liked this. He had been wanting to kiss her for the longest time, even if he didn’t want to admit it at first. She was a guest and he was mature enough now that he knew he shouldn’t make advances to someone living in his house.

She hadn’t said no yet, so he moved to the other side of her neck and kissed her again. She held back a moan, but he saw the way she chewed her lip in the mirror. He was sure she was liking this.

He did pull back though and turned her around. Her eyebrows wrinkled her forehead a bit, but there wasn’t fear in her eyes. She looked a bit unsure, so he knew he needed to confirm.

“Marianne, I hope you didn’t mind. I just...really like you, and I think we’re moving past a point where we aren’t just friends anymore.” His hands were still at her waist.

She inhaled. “You’re right. We aren’t.” She closed her eyes as if to prepare herself. “I like that you do, and I like that you kissed me. I’d quite like that more.”

The words he needed to hear. He cupped her face with one hand, keeping one hand on her waist. He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “May I?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, opening her eyes. Her lids were hooded and he could see the spark of desire. It hadn’t consumed her yet, but he knew it could possibly.

“Wonderful.” Slowly, as if to tease her, he lowered his face closer. He paused to see if she’d bridge the gap, and to his delight, she did.

She was gentle, pursing her lips just a tiny bit to join his. It was very chaste, and Sylvain thought it was sweet. He loved a good making out, but taking things slow was a nice change of pace from his horny days.

His other hand joined her face and he pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. She pushed herself forward as well, arms wrapping around his back. She was pressed tightly against him, he could feel her bosom on his chest, and his hips were just shy of pressing against hers. He inhaled through his nose and opened his mouth a bit, capturing her bottom lip.

She opened her mouth as well, lips moving against his, trying to match his rhythm, and then he swiped his tongue across bottom lip to entice her. Marianne opened her mouth a bit wider and her own tongue came out to play. The tips touched and both felt jolts rush through their bodies.

Sylvain pulled away to breathe for a moment. “You liked that,” he asked in a low voice. Marianne liked how it was gravelly.

“Yes, I did,” she said in an equally low voice, one that was more sultry and seductive. Oh, Sylvain liked this side of her a lot.

“There’s more, trust me,” he responded, and dove back in.

Mouths stayed open and tongues more adventurous, darting in and out, sliding against each other. It was still at a slow pace, but just the thought that a part of him, even if it was just his tongue, was inside of her, even if it was just her mouth, excited him and he felt his loins ache again, tightening his core. He didn’t want to have an erection quite yet, because he feared it would scare her off. If she didn’t want to have sex yet, he didn’t want her to feel obligated just because he was aroused. He wanted her to desire him just as much he desired her.

She finally pulled away and took a glance behind him. “Oh Sylvain! The bath!” He turned to see the water was starting to flow out of the tub. He dashed towards it and shut off the faucet. Oh boy. When they got in it would slosh out with their combined weight.

“Ah, I may have to drain it a bit… Don’t want to make too much of a mess, or risk us slipping.” He unplugged the drain using the chain on the faucet to keep his clothes dry and watched the water whirl around as it flowed away.

“I’m sorry. I distracted you.” she mumbled, looking away. He turned towards her, concern in his brow.

“Marianne, it was quite the pleasant distraction and I definitely wouldn’t mind it again. Let’s just set up the bath and perhaps things can continue...” he suggested with a wink.

“O-oh!” Her eyes widened at his implication. “I mean, I suppose that was the point of my request.”

“Oh? You wanted to kiss me senseless, hoping you’d get to see me naked? You little minx,” he joked.

She giggled awkwardly. “I suppose...”

He hummed. “Well, I’m not complaining. Just know that if you need to stop for whatever reason, you only need to tell me. I know this is new territory for you, and the last thing I’d want is for you to regret it.”

“Thank you, Sylvain. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He turned back to the tub and saw the water was at an appropriate level and plugged it again. “Hmm, seems it’s ready. Best we get undressed now.” He turned and stepped towards her, gaze lowered.

She swallowed but nodded. “Yes...” She started to untie the ribbon at her collar, but Sylvain stopped her. She glanced up, confused.

“Allow me, Marianne,” he uttered, his eyes hooded in desire. He tugged at the ribbon and it came loose. He unwrapped the sash from her waist, unfastened the hooks and eyes, sliding the sleeves off her arms. She was there in just a girdle, a chemise, bloomers, stockings, and shoes.

He kneeled before her and gently took each shoe off, caressing her calves as he did so. Slowly the stockings came off, revealing her creamy skin inch by inch. He stood up to take off the girdle. She took a breath as if it was hard to do so before.

“You okay?” he asked, pausing.

“Yes, it just feels nice to breathe again,” she said in a small voice.

He hummed in response and went to take off her chemise. He slowly, painstakingly, lifted it up, revealing her petite torso and she raised her arms to assist. When it was off and he threw it to the side, he took in her neck, collarbone, scanning his eyes downward to see her full breasts. Marianne always seemed to shrink herself and he could see why. Had she stood loud and proud, men would be ogling her for days.

She went to cross her arms, but he held her back. “No, don’t be shy. I like looking at you.”

She gulped and nodded. He took in her concerned face.

“If you want to stop...”

“No! This is just… It’s new. I’ve never let a man look at me in so little.”

“Well, I’m flattered to be the first.” He kissed her neck again and she sighed. He nipped at her collarbone teasingly and she squeaked again, but it turned into a moan as he lowered his mouth further. He placed a kiss atop each breast, just shy of her areolas and nipples; they were small and a pleasant pink. His lips captured the left one and his tongue teased it.

Marianne gasped loudly, throwing her head back. She grasped the counter behind her to steady herself. She felt like she was going weak in the knees.

Sylvain chuckled at her display and noticed her legs widened a bit. He continued sucking her breast as his hand kneaded the other, massaging it so the nipple would harden into a tiny peak, ready for his mouth to lavish it in attention. Satisfied at the one being wet by his tongue, he started sucking the other one, his other hand raising to knead at the other.

Marianne moaned again, her voice a higher decibel. She pushed her chest into his face, looking down to see what he was doing. He looked up and grinned at her flushed face, her pupils blown from desire. He sucked harder, kneaded harder, and she cried out.

He pulled away, standing straight to pull her head back by her hair so he could suck on her neck. Marianne tended to wear high collar dresses anyway, so she shouldn’t mind a hickey.

“A-ah…!” she cried as he sucked harder, teeth grazing her skin. Her legs were wide enough that he could fit between them and she felt something quite firm against her inner thighs.

Oh… _Oh._ He wanted her. A part of her felt like the goddess or her adoptive father would disapprove that she was letting, _encouraging_ Sylvain to touch her like this, to dive deep into her primal feelings and bask in the sin, but she had never let a man give her attention. She was always so shy. For once, she wanted to be bold. She wanted to be desired. She wanted to be happy, and Sylvain was letting her be all those things, so damn others’ opinions.

His hands started to roam down her body, caressing her curves until his fingers paused at the waistband of her bloomers. He pulled away from her neck. Oh yeah, there was definitely the beginning bloom of a hickey.

“Marianne,” he said once again in his gravelly voice. “May I?” His fingers clenched at the fabric.

“Please,” was all she could say and he pulled them off and she raised each leg to fully shed the last bit of clothing.

She was bare before him. He was eye level with her womanhood. Calling it a pussy, cunt, snatch, any of the more vulgar words would be a discredit to Marianne. His mouth watered and he needed to taste her.

He kissed her just below her navel and she quivered again. He smiled against her skin as he lowered himself further and further.

“W-wait, Sylvain...” she managed to get out.

He looked up, his face still close to her womanhood, curiosity embracing his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, it’s a bit unfair that I haven’t, um, undressed you yet. Surely you’d also like to be naked?”

How downright cute of her. She was right of course, but he was mostly concerned with her pleasure. It would be nice to get out of these suddenly stifling, tight clothes.

“You’ve got a point.” He stood up, his arms to his side. “Since I undressed you, I’ll give you the pleasure of undressing me. Take your time; I like a good tease.”

She laughed and set to work. She untied his ascot, unbuttoned his shirt. He had taken his coat off earlier when they arrived home so he was soon bare-chested. The shirt was discarded revealing an undershirt that she lifted as far up as she could, as she was much shorter than him, so he had to help her partway. She took off the stays that kept his pants on, kneeling down to work at his shoes and socks. She straightened her back as she was eye level now with his...manhood. She couldn’t say the more technical word; it was too embarrassing.

She swallowed and went to unfasten the pants. It became apparent as she pulled them down that he was very much aroused, if the large and erect lump in his underwear was any indication. His pants now completely off, thrown to the side, her fingers fiddled at the waistband of his underwear.

“It’s okay, babe, take your time,” he said through his teeth. She looked up to see him chewing his lip, probably to hold back his moans or something. She wasn’t sure if men made as much noise as she did.

He also called her babe and the term of endearment had awakened something in her. Without any hesitation she pulled his underwear down and his manhood sprung free.

“O-oh my...” she gasped. She hadn’t expected it to be quite that large. It was intimidating.

“Um, yeah, not to brag, but I’m pretty well endowed.”

Marianne took in its appearance, how bright red it was, the veins pulsing, the tip leaking white drops of semen. She never gave much thought to it, but his balls were also quite large and they looked soft. She didn’t see why they wouldn’t be, but seeing a man in the flesh was quite an experience.

When she realized how she was staring without saying anything, she looked away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s rude to stare.”

“Trust me, a girl ogling my cock is not rude at all. Besides, if you’re willing, you can do more than stare...” he hinted. He didn’t want to approach Marianne in that way because he knew how she was, but goddess damn if she wanted to fuck, he’d indulge her.

Marianne knew what he was implying, but she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that. “I, um...”

“I know you’ve never done it before, so you don’t have to suck it, but you can touch it. I’d..I’d really like you to...” he said through gritted teeth. He really wanted to come but he wasn’t going to force her.

She took in a shaky breath and gently stroked it. Sylvain gasped. Goddess it had been so long. He didn’t want to masturbate since Marianne stayed in his room all the time, so it had been _a very long time_ since anything had touched his cock. Marianne’s gentle touch drove him crazy.

She touched his sack, squeezing it a little in her hand. She brought up her other hand and cupped his balls in them, massaging them.

“Oh fuck Marianne that’s fantastic,” he moaned.

She spluttered at the expletive but kept going, enjoying the little noises he made as she lavished him with as much attention as he did her earlier. Eventually both hands wrapped around his cock and she slid them up and down in a semi-tight grip, enjoying the soft skin of it, but also how hard it was.

“Ahh, Marianne,” he grit out. “Can you spit on it?”

A vulgar suggestion in her mind, but she figured he needed some sort of lubrication? It was probably a bit too rough with the friction. She did as he said and spit on his cock.

“Yeah baby, just like that,” he whispered. Marianne got back to her ministrations and was pleased it was easier to jack him off.

Drops of precum dribbled out of the slit and Marianne felt a desire to lick it up. The innocent part of her thought that was mildly disgusting, but her primal instincts were begging her to do it. She bent forward and licked the slit to taste him.

Salty. Very salty. But also musky. It wasn’t unpleasant, so she continued to lick him. Sylvain growled as he felt more pleasure building up.

“Fuck yes, Marianne, just like that.” His hips started to thrust, matching her strokes.

Not having enough of him in her mouth, wanting more of that taste, Marianne opened her mouth and started to take him in. His tip was past her lips, moving past her teeth. It scraped a bit against them and he hissed.

“Ah, no teeth...” was all he could say.

She hummed in response and opened her mouth much wider so he wouldn’t feel her teeth. His shaft was pressing against her tongue, flattening it as he began to push deeper into her mouth.

His tip was approaching the back of her throat and she started gagging. She felt bad, like she was messing up, but Sylvain pulled back, brushing her hair off her face.

“Relax your throat if you can. It’s not a bad thing if you can’t take it that far. Just being in your mouth feels good.”

She nodded and went back to sucking. To compromise her lack of deepthroating skill, she wrapped one hand around his cock, firm around the base, and kept his shaft halfway in her mouth, bobbing a bit back and forth. Sylvain moaned, his hand at the back of her head, stroking her hair.

“You’re such a good girl, Marianne.” He ran his fingers along her scalp, massaging it. “You’re a natural.”

She enjoyed the praise. It made her confident. She started sucking harder, gripping a bit tighter, moving at a faster rhythm to really please him.

“Oh _fuck yes,_ keep it up, baby,” he grunted.

Goddess, hearing him say that was...so hot. Marianne never indulged in these types of fantasies, but Sylvain praising her ministrations, wanting more, aroused her. She hoped she would feel this amount of pleasure when he took his turn at her.

“Marianne, I’m close...” he moaned. “If you don’t wanna swallow, now’s the time to pull away...”

But something in her wanted his spunk in her mouth. She wanted to taste it in full. Although, the splatter on her face was equally arousing.

She didn’t have time to make a choice as she felt him stop and make a sound somewhere between a sigh and a yell and suddenly a whole lot of cum was filling her mouth. He rode it out a bit, thrusting shallowly, his grip on her hair tight. He finally pulled away, sighing.

She looked up at him, swallowing the white, salty, creamy goodness. Some had dripped on her lips and down her chin. Sylvain’s eyes widened at the display.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I should have pulled out. You didn’t have to swallow!”

She shook her head, wiping the remnants off her face with the back of her hand. “I wanted to.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wow...”

They were quiet a moment, looking away. The dynamic had shifted. Suddenly she wasn’t his guest, his accidental roommate. They were...lovers.

“I, uh… Wow that was intense,” Sylvain started. “Felt amazing. You… Damn I didn’t know you’d have it in you.”

“Like I said, I wanted this...” Marianne said quietly. “I hope...you’ll return the favor.”

Hell yeah he would. Sylvain in school thought going down on a girl was gross. But during the war when he messed around with a few of his fellow Black Eagle Strike Force members (Dorothea and Leonie surprisingly enough did not shy away from sex), he found he actually enjoyed it once he grew up and he loved hearing girls scream his name as he made them come for real. (He knew the girls in school usually faked it. Why else did they not come back?)

He picked her up and placed her on the counter, legs dangling. He opened them wider, scooting her down so her bottom was hanging off as well. He was on his knees, placing her legs on his shoulders so she’d have more support.

“Serious question, but have you ever had an orgasm before?” he asked.

Marianne vaguely knew what that was. Hilda often talked to her about the pleasures she gave herself but she was too scared to do it herself. Hilda once offered, but Marianne declined. It was appreciated nonetheless.

“I’ll take your silence as a no.”

“Um, I’ve never...touched myself. I wouldn’t even know what one feels like.”

“Then you’re about to have the ride of your life,” he boasted. “Lay back and enjoy.”

She did so, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him. When he saw she was relaxed, he grabbed the backs of her thighs, and he went to town.

Marianne yelled out. Her thighs clamped around his head like a vice and her back arched. She gripped the counter until her fingers hurt and she felt tears prickle at her eyes.

“Oh, Sylvain, _please_ keep going!” she begged. Her voice choked on her sobs. “Oh goddess it feels so good.”

He chuckled against her and his tongue dove in and out, flicking her clit, rubbing it. His movements were unpredictable but he knew this technique worked. He could make girls squirt when he did it just right.

He’d shake his head to add more speed, move his face so deep into her groin to take in as much of her as he could. He slipped a finger inside her and probed, making come hither motions because he learned girls liked that a bit more than thrusting. A second finger slid in, his tongue still lavishing her clit, and he heard her hold back her screams.

For a moment he stopped. “Scream all you want, Marianne. Let yourself enjoy it. Tell me what a good job I’m doing.” Arrogant sure, but he was also right.

He went back to the cunnilingus of the century (at least for Marianne) and she did as he said and screamed. Loud moans erupted from her, she writhed on the counter, her hands in his hair. He loved it when she did that. It was a sign she definitely was having a good time.

“Sylvain, you’re so good! Don’t stop, please!” she begged, legs flexing against his head, her hips bucking to meet his tongue, hands pushing him further in.

Some guys would have hated that. Sylvain actually loved it. A girl inexperienced in sex but clearly having the time of her life? If it meant drowning in her pussy, it was worth it.

Sylvain’s hands moved to her hips, he gripped her strongly and pushed her as far as she could go against his face. This was the final stretch. He was running out of breath but did not want to stop until she came. He needed to hear her scream. He needed her approval. He ate her out like he was a starving peasant and Marianne was the finest of feasts.

His tongue moving at an impossible speed, his strong grip on her hips, his mouth engulfing her, Marianne squeezed her core, spreading her legs wide, and arching her back as she came. Her eyes shot open, she took in gulps of air, she was squealing, and then she let out an ear shattering scream.

“SYLVAAAAAIIIINNNN!!!!” She then let out an expletive and Sylvain almost choked. Orgasm so good she forgot her propriety and let out a swear word? He knew he did a good job.

He slowed his pace a bit until he felt her shivering. He pulled away, his face glistening with her juices. He took in her breathing, how she was gasping. Her body went limp and he saw her pussy contract a bit, the last waves of her orgasm flowing away. Her hands fell to either side of her. She was boneless.

He stood up, still between her legs, lifting her torso up so he could look at her. Her eyes were a bit unseeing at first but then he saw her gaze shift back into focus. He held her up until she regained control of her own body.

“So… How was your first orgasm?” he asked, chuckling because he knew the answer.

“It...it was amazing...” she breathed out, still gasping. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Probably should bathe now. Water is probably cold though...” he said. He pulled her closer, kissing her shoulder.

She leaned her head against his own shoulder. “What if I want to stay dirty though?”

Oh now that was a statement. He knew what that meant.

Of course, he asked for confirmation. “What do you mean?”

“I… I really want to do this again.” He saw pleading in her eyes. “I don’t want this feeling to fade.”

“As much as I want to ravish you again, we really should bathe. You can wash as much of my body as you want, and I want to wash yours.”

“But...then we’d just do it again, right? I like your touch,” she said innocently.

“Trust me, Marianne, this is only the beginning,” he whispered into her ear. “I wash your body slowly, your hands slip lower with the washcloth as you stroke my cock. I suck on those delectable nipples. Then, we stop, rinsing each other and watch as the water drips sensuously off our bodies, drying each other to enjoy the soft, clean skin. Then, I carry you into bed and we make sweet love until morning. And then, I have you for breakfast...”

She caught on to his meaning. “And I would have you for breakfast, yes?” Double entendre?

“As long as you enjoy sausage, of course,” he joked, but then he snorted and she laughed. He enjoyed her laughter. It gave him a pleasantly warm feeling inside.

“Mmm, I can’t wait till breakfast then...” she whispered seductively.

This side of Marianne, the carnal creature he didn’t know she could be, ignited his senses. He realized that he really was in love with her, had been since that night they danced at the dance hall, and that one night she came to him because of a nightmare. He wanted to protect her, but she had saved him.

Likewise, Marianne realized her affection for Sylvain ran deeper than she imagined. Going to him that night was terrifying, because he could have easily rejected her, thinking she was childish for being disturbed by a nightmare, but he welcomed her into his arms, danced with her in the candlelight, kept her safe in his bed. He accepted her and it was all she craved for in life. Acceptance. Love. A closeness that not everyone could give. Sylvain gave her that and so much more.

They held each other for a long time, breathing in sync, clutching each other like letting go would mean they couldn’t reunite. But they did let go and smiled at each other, this newfound affection settling deep within their hearts. They could take it step by step, but the future looked very bright as long as they held each other’s hand and kept a smile on their faces.


End file.
